O V E R W A T C H
by HeronSun
Summary: A fleshing out of the story, backstories, and current events of the characters and situations within the Overwatch Universe as I have come to understand them. Mostly told from Character POV's. I will do my best not to contradict or outright retcon anything Blizzard has already given as far as Lore goes. Basically an unofficial Novelization.
1. Prologue

**OVERWATCH**

 **PROLOGUE**

 **Overwatch HQ, Switzerland, 2076**

"Believe me Jack, it grieves me to think this could be the end."

Jack Morrison smiles and nods, though there is no joy in the expression. I never wanted to be the one to tell them, but I knew it would come down to it. The Blackwatch unit (though publically Overwatch itself) had been accused of various Crimes Against Humanity. While the specifics were kept relatively quiet from the public, including the very existence of Blackwatch, the big heads at the UN knew everything, and popularity of Overwatch was plummeting rapidly. It became harder and harder to endorse their activities without scrutiny, without outcry. Even giving them funding seemed to anger everyone. Jack understands. How could he not? He'd seen the protests himself, had been forced to take action.

He isn't alone here though. Other members of Overwatch remain silent in the Commander's Office, large as the Oval Office in the White House, and quite reminiscent. Captain Gabriel Reyes, Crusader Reinhardt Wilhelm, Doctor Angela Ziegler, Agents Genji Shimada and Jesse McCree (who doubled as a Blackwatch agent), and Lead Engineer Torbjörn Lindholm all keep their silence, or maybe they're just unsure what to say. 'The Vets' they were called, and the most respected of them all. _I respected all of them myself. I know them all personally as friends. Why did they make me come to tell them? To make it easier, or harder?_ I tap my fingers on my suitcase in front of me on the desk while the noiseless atmosphere grows tense.

"Thank you, Edrich." I hear Doctor Ziegler's voice break the brief silence. She'd been in the unit for a long time, though her age was almost impossible to discern. "I think I speak for everyone when I say we all appreciate you coming to tell us in such haste." Her accent is light, all but invisible to myself, a fellow Swiss.

"Yes," I hear Commander Reyes begin, "thanks for being so quick to put us under. We really appreciate it."

"Secure that, Gabriel." Jack says, stern and commanding.

Reyes gives him a poisonous look. "Excuse my intrusion, _Sir._ " There was little respect in the word. "Permission to speak freely."

Jack hesitates and looks at me, and I shrug. "Go ahead."

The Captain wastes no time. "Why are you letting them do this, Jack? Disband us so easily? If I were still in charge, this would mean war, not rolling over."

"Zen perhaps," begins the big one, called Reinhardt, whose accent is as thick as his chest, "we are to be grateful that you _aren't_ in charge."

"Need we remind you, Gabriel, that your Unit's actions are the reason behind the recent controversies surrounding us all?" Genji, the usually silent Cyborg, was notorious for speaking sense when needed, and here it is sorely welcomed.

Reyes is quick to fire back. "That's hilarious coming from a Shimada, and an _Omnic_ besides. Need I remind _you_ of what your own kind has done?"

Though the Ninja's features are hidden, it is apparent this cut deep. His silence speaks too much to be unheard.

Jack thinks this has gone too far, and he's right. "That's enough, Reyes."

"No _sir,_ it isn't enough. It won't be enough until this is fixed, until we're allowed to be who we are. Until we're _Heroes_ again, and not _Criminals_."

McCree puts a hand on Reyes' shoulder. "Cap, calm down. This ain't the right way to handle this."

"I second that!" The dwarf, Torbjörn, calls out, raising his bionic arm. He hops down from the chair he was sat in, clearly meant for a bigger person. "Perhaps we should settle this with a few drinks." Reinhardt hoots in agreement and they are permitted leave by Jack with a sigh. _I could go for a few hard ones myself_ , I think.

Reyes turns to McCree, anger clearly incapable of leaving him. "And what way should we handle this, _Scoundrel_? Don't tell me you've gotten soft. Should we send your useless hide back to the heap we pulled you out of?"

McCree hits him, full in the face, his own bionic hand clearly capable of dealing a severe blow. "You done?" He asks as Reyes composes himself. "Cus I don't think I need many more excuses to do that again. 'Scoundrel' was strike three, already."

Reyes eyes his former subordinate with contempt, wiping his mouth of blood. He looks at the red smear on his hand. "And how many is that for you now?" Reyes raises a fist, but Jack and Genji intervene before he can throw it. Doctor Ziegler is not in the fray, though she has found herself a seat to remain in, her head in her hands. _Insanity._

McCree laughs. "Go on, let him go. Let's see what he's got."

Morrison separates himself from the struggle and pushes a finger into McCree's chest "You shut your mouth, Jesse. You're not making this any better." McCree thinks on that, and goes silent.

By now the room has calmed down, for the most part. Reyes still looks angry, but he's regained his patience. Jack turns back to them all. "This is getting out of hand," he begins, pinching the bridge of his nose, "we can further discuss our course of action tomorrow, fourteen-hundred hours sharp. Someone go tell Rein and Torb the same thing. Everyone but Reyes is dismissed."

With that, the Ninja, the Doctor, and the Cowboy leave the room. Reyes, Jack, and myself remain. "You can go too Ed. Thanks for coming." He offers a hand, and I take it, shaking once.

"I'm truly sorry for the news I have brought you today." I say, but the words are meaningless. "I can only hope for the best for you all." I leave, empty handed, empty hearted.

I close the door on my way out, and I barely make it down the hall before the shouting between them begins again. _I am truly sorry for what I have done today._ _Forgive me._

I hear the shouting get louder, grunts and sounds of violence begin to echo muffled through the hall. It is not my place to intervene. Even if I could.

The shockwave rocks through the air from behind me, knocking me to the floor. I gasp for air and turn, my glasses shattered. Everything is a dark blur. I hear alarms blair and fire crackle, the distant sound of more explosions shaking the very structure of the building to the core. Shouts of emergency personnel follow shortly afterward. _What is this?_ I have little time to think before smoke fills the air and I lose consciousness.


	2. Chapter 1

**WINSTON**

 **Watchpoint: Gibraltar, 2082**

"If my math checks out, and it usually does-"

"You mean _always_ does, Winston?" The usual giggle followed. Lena carried herself with little care, bouncing with nearly every step, unbridled optimism seeping through every action.

I smiled, as well as I can around a human without looking silly. "I was trying to be modest. But that's pointless around you, isn't it? Anyway, _if_ it checks out, the Slipstream should be able to Chronically Accelerate, or 'Blink' as I like to call it, pretty much anywhere along it's assumed flight pattern, given that there are no obstructions." I noticed only then that we'd stopped walking, and she was staring at me, an eyebrow cocked upwards.

I sighed. "It time-travels forwards. Like teleporting."

Her eyes lit up, the desired reaction. "Oh that is _neat_ , Big Guy. And I'm going to fly this thing?"

I nodded, glasses slipping down my nose. "It wasn't my decision, but yes. I personally think you're too reckless." I gave her as light a jab as I could on her shoulder, but even that hurt her a bit. I forget my size sometimes. She ignored it.

"Oh _haw haw_ , Winston. Are you sure you aren't part Jackass?"

"I doubt it, though the specifics of my genetic makeup were never fully disclosed-"

"Winston, love? It was a joke."

"Oh. Yes, of course." I straightened my glasses, well, not mine really, and resort to silence in my embarrassment. She laughed at me, as always.

It was hard to believe she joined Overwatch at only 19 years old, though I wasn't much older than her when I was chosen. Until her, it occurs to me now, I was the youngest recruit, human or otherwise.

Later that day I was told that my math _had been_ wrong, that I did not calculate for a human being inside the jet, only for the jet itself. This caused a malfunction in the Teleportation Matrix. How stupid. How unbelievably bone-headed of me. It was my fault she was gone now. Not Torbjörn's for the build, not Lena's for piloting, and not the scouts for failing to find her. Just mine.

Months passed. Barely anyone talked to me anymore. Barely anyone noticed the endless contributions I still made. It could be because I was reassigned to the Watchpoint in Gibraltar, or it could be no one here really knew me, or it could be that they felt, rightly so, that I was the reason for losing one of their best and brightest. I heard a knock in the causeway, and Mei was there. She was the only other member with glasses, we observed early on. She was brilliant, like me. She didn't quite fit in, like me. Yet, despite our obvious similarities, neither of us really _understood_ each other.

"Knock Knock." She exclaimed, letting herself in. I was seated in my tire near the ceiling, looking out through the large window, gazing outward into Gibraltar. I wanted Lena back. I wanted nothing more than to hear her giggles again, her jokes I never understood, her smiles.

But I had Mei. I dropped from the tire to give her a hug, as gentle as I could. Her robot friend flittering and chirping around, mist flowing out of his bottom. "I just came to say hello. And see how you are." I spent many years studying human facial expressions and discerning what they meant. She looked… sad now? Concerned? Those two were similar.

"Yes, I'm working on something new now. Uh, it's a new form of Tesla generator. It should come in handy when needing to add some quick energy to dead electronics."

Mei seemed genuinely fascinated, immediately looking towards my work and understanding. "Oh, it's wonderful Winston. So it works similar to a battery? I mean, it's obviously more complicated, but how much energy do you mean?"

I gave a small huff. "Well, if my math is right," _though once it wasn't,_ "then I can charge the entire station for nearly a month on a single cell, which takes about ten seconds to eat through."

She looked astonished. Impressed. But all the while ecstatic about the complicated calculations and designs that must have taken so long. And here I missed Lena again. About this time she would call me a big nerd, or just laugh at how little she actually understands. Or just say-

"Winston."

"Yes, Mei?"

Mei turned from the Tesla Generator, "Did you say something Winston?"

I was confused, "You didn't call my name just now?"

She shook her head, glasses rocking back and forth.

"Winston, I'm-"

I heard the voice, feminine, panicked, but Mei was not speaking. I turned to the source, behind me. And what I saw I may never fully understand.

...

"Never accept the world for what it appears to be," I say to myself in the empty, utter silence of the Watchpoint. Long empty now, long deserted. This is what I call home. Of course, it has been home for a long time, so I can't complain. Eight years in fact. But other than Athena, no real company.

I busy myself with various experiments these days, a defense matrix here, a new AI program there. Nothing substantial. Nothing that will get me noticed.

It has been over five years since the disbandment of Overwatch, six since the attack on HQ, and almost eight since Lena's accident. She was only nineteen when she joined, and only twenty when the accident happened. Too long since I'd seen any of them. My family. Once the PETRAS act went into effect, even being near too many of each other, or even co-ordinated communication, was considered 'Overwatch Activity', punishable by prosecution and incarceration. Even Mei could not see me anymore. This place became desolate, empty. Even more so than my first home.

I swing up into the main computer chamber, seating myself in another tire and switching on the news feed. Athena blinks into existence on an unused screen.

"Good morning, Winston. I trust you have had your early exercise today."

Sarcasm. I have no idea why I even programmed that into her. I didn't understand it in humans, and I didn't like it from her. I merely give her a look, and I know she can see it.

"Apologies Winston, but a healthy body makes a healthy mind. Research reaching back to the late 20th century suggests as much, and nothing substantial has disputed it since."

I roll my eyes. "This makes the sixteenth day in a row you have reminded me, Athena. And you wasted no time."

"Would you rather I wait a few days?" The subtext was clear. ' _And let you get fatter?'_ She'd add, had I developed her bluntness any further. The screen in front of me flitters a news headline from London, and an anchor doing his best to remain unbiased while reporting the matter.

"Riots broke out again today on the streets of London, as many Omnic protesters leap to the cause of civility and equal rights for their kind. Supporters and opposers of the Omnic Rights cause appear to be in equal number in england, and opinions vary from country to country on what the best course of action could be."

All this over a video clip of the riots. Police officers, Omnic and Human alike, blocking against a crowd that roars and charges, equally mixed. "Before the situation became too unstable," the reporter began, "an unknown third party intervened." I shake my head and reach to change the channel, until a blue glint whips by the screen, only five or six frames, but enough for me to catch it.

"Wait, Athena. Rewind that please." I lean up to the screen and straighten my glasses. _Is that you?_

The footage runs backwards, too quickly, I miss it. "Athena, go forward about sixty frames." One second passes on the time, and I see the beginning of the blue glint. In front of it is a Yellow and Brown blur. Indistinguishable for some, but all-too-familiar to me. "Lena."

...

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Doctor. I understand travel here must be difficult these days."

While Mei was greeting Doctor Ziegler, I was standing at the containment chamber, watching my greatest friend seemingly fizzle in and out of existence. Appearing at one end of the room, then the other, then the center, then laying on the sofa, then peering out the window. No matter where she was, it was clear she was suffering. I could not stand to look much longer.

"Winston?" Doctor Angela Ziegler's voice called to me, and I turned. Her face was a welcome sight. It had been several months since I'd last seen her, since Mei and I had been reassigned here, but I embrace her all the same. She was always kind.

"How is she?" She asked me, and I showed her through the small window in the steel door. It didn't take her long to appear shocked. Tears welled up in her eyes. "She's like a ghost," She whispered, "the poor girl."

"Yes," I began, "that much is clear to us. We have no idea how she got here or why she's here _now_ or even if her health is being affected in any way. I have some hypotheses, but nothing terribly concrete."

"Please enlighten me." Doctor Ziegler was still staring into the room, drinking in the sour image. "Whatever we can do to help her, we need to do. And that starts by pinning down what happened."

I explained that the Slipstream Jet's course was set to end up here, and that when the Matrix malfunctioned, the Pilot, meaning Lena, must have been still along the set flight pattern, or in this case, timeline. When the Jet, and subsequently Lena, disappeared, she must have followed the time jump to Gibraltar, only much later than anticipated.

"Though this doesn't explain the missing Jet." I conclude.

"That doesn't matter." Ziegler said. "She needs help. That is our job now."

She turned, letting out a large sigh and clasped her hands together. "Well, now for a Diagnosis."

...

"Winston, I feel I don't need to remind you of the consequences." I hear Athena speak before I notice I'm staring at the notice on the screen. 'INITIATE OVERWATCH RECALL?' it says, A large Y and N glows beneath the notice.

When the top screen vanishes, I see the frame of Lena dashing across the screen again. 'Tracer' was her call name. It had been when she was only a pilot, and not a field operative. After the accident, it took much more convincing to get her to climb into a passenger jet, let alone the cockpit of a fighter, and she never flew again.

 _Instead, she blinked._ I smirk, staring at the screen. Admiration, nostalgia, and respect are concepts that the vast majority of my kind do not regularly understand nor care about, but I have come to recognize each one intrinsically, and feel all in this moment simultaneously. All for Lena Oxton.

"Are you feeling lonely, Winston? I can try to locate Miss Oxton's personal address, if you'd like, or even her phone number." Athena suggests. I wince at the idea.

"No, there's no need to go to such extremes."

"Extremes such as recalling all of Overwatch?"

"That's different."

"What did you hope to achieve?"

I hesitate, unable to answer exactly. But then I turn the multi-screen display into a collage of news headlines and reports around the globe. Russia is suffering a rise in individual Omnic violence. Australia's outback is a warzone. Numbani, London, Japan, Korea, China, Greece, even Los Angeles; chaos, warfare, unnecessary violence. Everywhere. "A world without this."

Athena seemed to pause, calculating a precise response. "Overwatch activity is illegal, Winston. I know it is difficult to maintain this course, to do nothing. But it is for the better of all former agents."

"But is it better for the world?"

"I cannot say. But for your sake, for all their sakes, leave them be."

I take a long breath, staring at the Y and N, and choose the latter. _For now._

 _..._

"Chronal Disassociation." Doctor Ziegler said, confident.

It had been about a month since Mei was reassigned to Watchpoint: Antarctica. I never could have anticipated that I could never have seen her again at the time. Of course, these things usually don't come to mind. Ziegler, or 'Mercy' as she was often called, had not left Gibraltar since arriving, even as protests and committees were being held to dismantle Overwatch and all its domains. 'You would be better off there, Mercy,' I would say 'They need you.' She would shake her head and answer 'You need me more.'

I'll never forget her kindness. Choosing to stay here and help Lena was more than just inconvenient for the Doctor, it played horribly on her own mental health. Gibraltar was an awfully secluded place, and one could find themselves talking to shadows more often than they'd like to admit.

She stayed strong, however. Headfast.

"You mean Lena has been… blinking back and forward through time?" I say, feeling my jaw slack.

"Well, not necessarily. It's her own timeline she's going through. Though I imagine it wouldn't be any more pleasant."

"How far ahead is she going? How far back?"

Ziegler shook her head. "I don't know. It's not affecting her physically, it seems. Mentally…"

I nodded. Without saying anything, I got to work. Before the week is done, I have a blueprint. After a month, I have a prototype. Getting it onto Lena was no easy task, as it required her to be still. Whatever opportunity we had, we took.

When Lena finally had been _there_ long enough, we placed it on her. The Chronal Accelerator. She had to feel her own hands and her own face to be sure it had worked. Before long, she was in tears. I would have as well, though my kind lacks the tear ducts necessary. Instead I held her. She weighed almost nothing, even with the machine strapped to her. "Winston. Winston, I'm here."

She turned to Doctor Ziegler and embraced her as well. Through the sobs and weeping, she spoke her first words. "You know, Doc, when I said I wanted a bigger chest someday, this isn't quite what I had in mind."

Angela rolled her eyes and pulled her off. Lena only laughed. And laughed and laughed. I didn't quite understand, but I laughed too. Before long, Ziegler, though exhausted and at wits end, not yet realizing she was the first Doctor in human history to save not only a patient's life, but her very existence, laughed as well.

I didn't know this would be the last time I'd see us all together. But then again, these things don't come to mind.


	3. Chapter 2

**GENJI**

 **SOMEWHERE IN NEPAL, 2079**

"You are not worthy of the Shimada name. You bring only shame, and disappointment."

 _Shame and disappointment._ Words reflected upon myself time and again. The spur of my kin, certainly, had wrought terrible dishonor upon my soul. To hear my beloved brother say them was salt in the wounds. My father's spirit was not a target of contempt or disrespect in any manner, and I'm sure in death he finally understood. Hanzo, however…

 _Hanzo._ Despite the name echoing endlessly in my mind, despite the endless suffering and cruel tutelage his memory brought to me, I could never bring myself to hate the older of the Shimada brothers any more than I could hate my mother. I could only hate the one truly responsible for this horrid waking curse. This twisted form of… something less-than-human. I could only hate a young and stubborn youth named Genji.

I had thanked and honored the one they call 'Mercy' time upon time eternal, and will continue to do so to my dying breath. Her kindness is why I still breathe. Though for that, I should curse the Blonde woman. Locked in these endless ghostly struggles I find myself, whether to hate or admire, to curse or bless. But my only enemy was myself.

In these mountains, the chill would have nearly frozen a younger, more horrid man who carried my name. The snowfall would have blinded him. The climb would have weakened him. But now this body, lifeless and bare, knows no such trivialities. My senses, if they were even my own, sought out and found many things that I could not see or hear.

Enemies were abound, even here. Everywhere I turn I am followed by unwanted eyes. _The freak of Overwatch. The Half-Omnic. The Scourge of Shimada._ Though they are all correct, I cannot, and by all rights should not, let these insults slide. Overwatch had taught me to spare innocents, even if they shall insult me. The Shimada clan, my family, had taught me a less than forgiving approach. Blood was never my blade's drink, in spite of all my family's attempts, only oil and metal parts.

I come upon a cliffside the internal mapping system applied to my thoughts shown as invisible. I touch its stone, slick with fresh ice, but of no concern. Without breath, without muscle, I climb in swiftness, leaving behind the ground. A ledge meets me after ten or so meters, and I leap to it, the grip of my soles easily cancelling out any slick surface the stone may have. I climb again, to another ledge, and again, a narrow slit in the rock is where I plant my blade to hold me. Even in this body, a fall would be fatal. _And clumsy_.

Before long I mount the end of the cliff, and instinct teaches me to hold my Wakazashi at the ready, shurikens slip between my knuckles, ready to throw at a moment's notice. Instinct serves me well. An Orb darts at me through the cloud of white, parting snowflakes as it moves. I move to deflect it, but it passes me. In an instant I feel all at once weakened, cold, and blind. _Human._

"Without confrontation, may I ask who enters the Shambali temple?" In a language I understand, a voice calls out from the blanket of white.

I have no answer. A faint glow approaches, soon followed by another at it's right, and a third at its left. As they come nearer, I see that the glows are halos. Even nearer, that the halos are split into eight dots of light for each circle. Ghosts, or angels. _Or demons._ Though no such things exist.

"Come nearer and you will taste my blade, phantoms."

"Surely, in the hands of such a capable warrior, a bitter taste it would be. Though we are no phantoms, friend." A second voice calls, remarkably similar to the first.

"I decide if you are friend or foe."

"Indeed, but decide wisely." The third voice, deeper than the first two.

The cold becomes unbearable quickly, stinging at what passes for skin in my current state. My lungs become stressed from the lack of oxygen, my legs lock up. These new potential threats are unlike what I have faced before. I cannot be confident enough to defeat any of them. I release my grip on the Wakazashi, the shurikens slip back into my forearm. I stand at leisure. For a moment.

I collapse, the orb retracts from my body and a mechanical hand reaches out from the fog to intercept. Forward come the three, all Omnics, one floating a meter above the ground in a folded leg stance of balance, the other two walking. The one who first spoke to me, the one who floats, pushes his hands forward, and the eight orbs circling his head float listlessly and past me. I am lifted from the ground by the orbs, and without understanding, I lose myself.

...

"Our father begged me, in his last wishes."

Here in the ancient Shimada temple, I sat in the dining room with joy and laughter in my heart. Not that the death of my father amused me, but that his life was so full of accomplishments. I celebrated life then, never mourning for death. I took a sip of sake, warmth slipping down into my belly. Already I could feel my senses begin to falter only two drinks in. The girl on my shoulder turned to me.

"Should I leave?" She asked, and I nodded. As she left she gave me a glance. I wondered how she would feel in my bed in the morning. Hanzo's stare corrupted the image of her as she passed from my sight. He sat across from me, his bow placed in front of him under the table. He rarely was seen without it, and often kept a quiver. Today he did.

"Father was a decent man with an indecent empire, Hanzo. You know how I feel about that." I offer him a drink of sake, and he only stares ahead.

"Your feelings have nothing to do with it, little brother."

I grin at him, the glass of sake still between my fingers, "I beg to differ. I'm no longer little. I'm not letting go of this drink until you take it, Hanzo."

He took the drink from my hand, drinking quickly. "Naive and a fool you remain." His stare was cold. _Perhaps if he drank more, it wouldn't be so._

"Perhaps I am, but to think our clan could go legitimate is in itself naive." My grin disappears, his stare only remains. I had known Hanzo wished to bring the Shimada name out of the shadows for as long as I had wanted to leave. His reasoning left unsaid, his heart telling all; he could not bear to be without his brother, even if it meant abandoning the assassin tradition of the Shimada family.

The vast majority of the clan would lose too much in such a movement, and we would likely be ousted. The Shimada clan was now more in the hands of the Elders. Elders whose hearts had been chilled by coin. Hanzo knew this better than most. He must have known convincing me to return was an impossibility. If not for Father's sake, he may not have attempted such a folly venture at all.

I poured another glass of sake and offered it again to him. He needed it, as was clear. Hanzo never seemed to find respite, even in rest, though I knew I could make rise in him the best of moods. And only I. Finally he smiled, brief and cornered, but a smile nonetheless. He took the glass again.

"Maybe we are simply that, Genji," He said, setting the cup down, "naive fools."

I could not help but laugh, and my laughter must have been contagious. To hear him diminish himself to such an image was calming, and settling. Hanzo bellowed as I'd never heard him do so before.

Hanzo sighed, a smile still on his lips. "Genji, I do not want a conflict between us. Especially now, of all times. Please, just return to the clan. We need you." When he looked again at me, his humor had whisked away from him.

The words burned like bile in my throat. My own laughter faltered and stumbled until it was gone. What did he mean? "Conflict?" Suspicion crawled its way up my spine and into my mind, clamping as a trap would around my thoughts, tightening and crushing. "Hanzo, why did the elders send you? Truly?"

He hesitated, but his duty made him speak the truth. "I must defend the honor of our house."

Anger now burned within me. A raging sense of betrayal. "Defend your claim, you mean. Which Elder whispered into your ear this time?" My voice was beginning to rise, and I felt nothing but heat.

"Do not lecture me on the clan's ways, brother. Counsel was heard and heeded." He closed his eyes and reached for his bow. "I will grieve for you."

A moment passed, long and silent. I could feel the sting in my eyes, the pain welling up in my chest. Each heartbeat drummed into me the pangs of heartbreak. My own brother. Hanzo, so honorable and noble. _So dutiful._

"No, Hanzo…" my Wakazashi slips silently from its sheath, my grip tight. "You will not."

Silence then. I had to be quick, or he'd end me. Across the table, I could see sweat bleed from his pores and glide down his brow. He never looked away. I must not have either, for I noticed. My heart raced in pain and sorrow, knowing what I had to do.

I knocked the short table upwards in a dart, pivoted by the Katana I had hidden beneath, the wood clocking as it hit the floor, defending me from the arrow that came splintering through. I slashed with my left hand, the short edge of the Wakazashi eating through the soft wood with ease. When the wood parted, I sent forth a short volley of Shurikens, and Hanzo, midair, ducked beneath them as he landed.

He loosed again at me, my cover now splintered and split. I deflected easily, then again. _No._

I lunged forward, the hiss of the blade quieting only as the silk of his clothes ripped against its bite. I struck at him again, but the bend of his bow deflected. He reached for another arrow, and a Shuriken found it, sending it spinning away from him. He planted a foot into my chest then, pushing me backwards into the broken table. _Clumsy._

It was a mere moment before his arrow hit the floor and pierced it through. I rolled away and pushed myself off the ground. Only then had I noticed the flames licking up the pillars of the temple. Crackling heat and scorching ash swept through the air, rippling my vision. Another arrow slipped through my hair, grazing me.

I had to move, and quickly. I slipped the Katana out of its long sheath, chanting the words I had been taught. I lunged towards Hanzo, deflecting another arrow as I came, hearing it plunge into the wall behind me, even over the crackling of wood and roar of fire. I swung high, he dodged. I lunged forward and he stepped aside. I finally struck, but his bow had caught. It was enough to knock him to the ground.

I stood over my opponent, fire in my soul and in my lungs. I breathed the words more than I said them, the razor-sharp blade tip pressed against his chin. "Yield, Hanzo. Yield and go back to the Shimada, tell them you failed. Tell-"

The wind came out of me in a sigh. I could not breathe but with great effort. I looked down at my own torso, and found it had been punctured from behind by several arrows. Each head shown red with blood. I could not breathe, I could not speak. As I fell to my knees, Hanzo slipped from under me and regained his stance.

The clang of the blades should have been enough. I was finished. I knelt, pain in physical and spiritual form soaring through me carelessly. I looked away from my wounds, to Hanzo, for some answer as to why. I did not speak.

He was panting, weeping. "You were weak, Genji!" He shouted over the fires "You abandoned us!" I wept as well, through silence. My tears were hot on my skin, and I idly wondered if they left any marks. "You are not worthy of the Shimada name." Cold poison slipped in his voice, and it was a toxin I could not swallow. "You bring only shame and disappointment."

It was either my weeping or the heat that burned and ripped the air now, but I still could see Hanzo turn from me and leave the temple.

I did not feel the debris collapse on my laden body.

I did not hear their voices as they shouted through the surgeries.

I did not see her face when she smiled at her success.

But I awoke again.

...

"I do not see the point of all this, Zenyatta. He is bionic, surely medical attention isn't required."

When I regain consciousness, I am in a bed and being stared upon by two of the three Omnic beings who had met me. Around me are stone walls and open windows leading to an endless blue canopy sky, a chill breeze constantly sweeping through the curtains. Pots and jars surrounding the room, hand crafted.

"It is not for the medication that I heal him, Mondatta, my friend. It is simply for the act itself. A kindness that he may one day give to another."

 _The act itself._ I rise into a seated position, my vision darting from one end of the room to the other, barely noticing the floating Omnics in my presence.

"Nepal." I say, feeling the cold on my exposed eyes. The burned skin feels the brisk temperature even more so. "I'm in Nepal."

"Yes. Underneath our supervision," The one named Mondatta began "you have recovered."

"What did you do to me?" I ask, finding my faceplate and slipping it on, a click and a hiss of gas confirming its place.

Zenyatta answered, "Weakened you, so that you'd pose no threat to neither my brothers nor myself."

"An unnecessary practice," Mondatta intervened, "that only succeeded in causing you to mistrust us."

 _Brothers…_ "I felt-"

"-Human." Zenyatta finishes, "And quite so. You made a point of telling us often and with increasing fervor as you slept. Six days and approximately thirteen hours, to answer your next inevitable quarry."

"How…" I begin, almost not registering what had been said. I regain my senses and stand as well as I can, bowing to the two gentle machines. "I forget my courtesies. Thank you for sheltering me."

"Of course. It was partly our fault you were put in the predicament that lead you here."

"Partly?" I ask, puzzled. Somehow these beings did not seem capable of falsehood.

"Indeed," Mondatta inquires, "your systems had shown us that you had not slept in many months."

"I do not require sleep." I assure him.

"Though you possess Omnic parts, Genji, you are still very human."

 _My name._ "You know who I am?"

Zenyatta speeks. "Your internal memories tell us more than your sleeping habits, Genji Shim-"

"Do not say that name." _Shame._

"That name is yours, Wanderer. Accepting it is the first step to harmony."

"I do not want harmony." These beings know only my name, not my burdens.

"I know that you are troubled," Zenyatta began, placing one of his metallic hands upon my shoulder, "and you seek peace from these troubles."

I stare through my visor at the unmoving, expressionless face of Zenyatta, the Shambali Omnic Monk. What I see is a reflection. "Can you give me this peace?"

Zenyatta removes his hand. "No," he turns to float near the open window, staring into the vast blue, "I learned long ago that one does not receive peace."

I follow him to gaze outward, seeing a village in the valley below. I hear children, a creek running down the mountain, wind through the brisk air. I smell bread being baked. I feel a rush of solidarity. I glimpse what could be mine.

"We find peace on our terms."


	4. Chapter 3

**JESSE**

 **SOMEWHERE IN TEXAS, US, 2082**

"Come back to bed, Jesse."

She says it half asleep, I can barely understand her. Do I feel bad for leaving? Count on it, do every time, but I'll feel worse in the morning if I stay. She is awfully pretty, though. Jessica she said her name was. How about that, we both thought. Jesse and Jessica. Meant to be, she said. When I turn back from the balcony, she's already out again. This sorta thing is not usual for me, honest. _I just needed some rest is all._

"You know I can't, darlin'," I whisper to her, myself, and the ghosts of this hotel. I leave a flower on the nightstand with a note I bulled up to make her feel better. Maybe she'd write a book about it some day. 'My night with The Outlaw, Jesse McCree.' I'm such a damn softy.

I put on the pancho, the jeans, the belt, and lord knows the hat, and turn back to the balcony. Not the front door, never. I pick up the bag I carry around with me and chuck it to the street below, hoping and knowing I didn't break anything from the fall. I follow soon after, grabbing onto the dry clay wall of the hotel as I go. It always feels like a longer drop than it turns out.

The place had that bright and colorful Mexican look to it. There's a dime a dozen of them this close to the border, where tourists go to experience the 'Real Mexico', but never dream about crossing the Rio. Like they even know what 'real' is. They see these clay walls and these bright colorful lights and the decorations and say 'Authentic', because their own houses got too dull.

 _Auténtico Mexicano es feo, mis amigos_. The gangs, the worst of which now is Los Muertos, made sure of that. Hell, just the other day I heard about some report of a big stint in Dorado. Stole money from a little girl and were gonna kill her, if not for some good samaritan. Old guy, apparently.

Doesn't seem so long ago that I was in a band of assholes myself. If it wasn't for Jack, I might still be in that band of assholes, or under the dirt with them. _Good ol' Jack. Why'd Reyes do that to you?_

Damn Reyes and his Blackwatch. I'm glad I got out when I did; a few more months and I might have been part of that nonsense. I had heard the whispers, the rumors, should have seen the signs, but no one really thought it would happen. Reyes ain't around for us to grab a confession out of him. Not that we needed one.

Gabe always had it out for Jack, ever since the UN named Jack strike commander of Overwatch. Thats a long time to hold a grudge, but if Reyes was known for anything, it was his unforgiving side. Still, can't say he didn't get what needed doing done. Even if it meant doing some pretty shady stuff.

The worst part was convincing Reinhardt. He was gonna crush me if I hadn't said the right thing. Hell, I don't blame him. I'd suspect me too. But that wasn't bad. What was bad is that he was torn up. I couldn't stand to see it. Seeing him cry like that, at the memorial, it ruined us all.

 _Even the biggest ones gotta break sometime._

Raymond's voice in my head again. He said it all the time, as a way to tell us to go for the biggest score imaginable. Only the last one got us all busted by Blackwatch. Some of us died for it. Most were locked up. But me?

No one ever asked me why I joined Blackwatch. I guess it seemed obvious. I chose them over prison, simple as that, they probably all think. Not the case, not by a long shot.

I make it all the way down the block before I hear a scream from the window I'd just left. I turn around and see the son of a bitch leaning out the balcony and looking for me. This lot is a tenacious bunch of idiots, I'll give em that. My own fault. I showed my face, I said my name, I stayed too long in one place. It was time to leave this town anyway.

 _Then what the hell am I waiting for?_

All at once, I'm back on 66, in '66, 21 years old, in that dusty old diner, waiting for my coffee. I just killed my first man. The Gang, the Deadlock Gang, feels it's time to celebrate. The Coffee tasted like dirt, but I tip the waitress every time I'm here anyway. Gotta be hard when your most loyal customers are a bunch of no-good ingrates who rarely even pay for their own meals. My share always went to that diner, whenever we were done with a score. The waitress learned pretty quick to put the near-twenty meals on one ticket. Even this time, when it's supposed to be _for_ me. The waitress asks me if I'm alright, if I need anything. I just smile at her.

I never ask the gang for the money back, cus I know they won't give it. The guy came at me with a shotgun, I tell myself. I was defending myself. It doesn't make it better, especially since we were rustling his Combines for parts. Just scraps, way smaller fry than we're used to doing. Probably didn't even need to do it, it was just for kicks. A man was dead, because we wanted to have fun. And we never looked back.

When I pull myself back to the present, I'm leaned against a wall, still looking up at the balcony. I watch the guy go back inside, and hear a struggle.

 _This is my fault,_ my own voice this time, _damn me._

I make my way back to the hotel through the alleyways, steering clear of the streets. When I reach the window looking into the lobby, there are two cops, and three other jokers. All armed. _Smart._ They're going through the books, tearing the place up. I can hear a few wayward gunshots upstairs, but they don't sound like they're hurting anyone. Yet. _Not smart._ The poor receptionist is scared out of her wits. Not sure who they are, but two-bit bounty hunters have had worse disguises.

I run through my options. Going in screaming seems the dumbest idea, as always. I could try and just casually walk by them, hope they don't know exactly who they're after, though that seems unlikely.

"Screw it." The one closest to the front desk says, just before he reaches over and drags the woman from behind it, putting a barrel to her head. I flinch. "We know you're here McCree! Come out, come peacefully, and we won't hurt no one."

"Anyone," his buddy says, one of the 'cops' with the submachine gun.

"What?"

"Won't hurt _anyone_. We gotta look smart, or he'll walk all over us."

The illiterate goon I mark first. He's got to go quickest. The other two jokers seem more dangerous, so they're next up. "Would you shut up? I ain't got time for grammar."

"Don't." The other cop with a holstered pistol says, I tag him last.

"Shut-"

Before he can finish, the flashbang goes off in the lobby. I say my apologies to the poor receptionist under my breath. Her eyes will hurt for a good while, but she'll live. I've bought myself a bit of time to get in.

When the front door crashes open, three bullets ring the Jokers' skulls. Non-lethal rounds. I made sure. _Wish I hadn't._ When the cops' ears and heads stop ringin', they pull their guns up to fire, and a few rounds hit the wall behind me when I roll towards the one with the auto. The gun itself gets tossed across the room. I plant my metal fist right in his gut and send him to the floor. The other cop turns his pistol to catch where I went. A single shot, and it bounces off my bionic arm. Would have been a headshot, I'll give him that. I unload the last three rounds into him and knock him out.

The receptionist is still reeling when I lift her up off the ground. Her bunned up hair is all messed up now and she looks a lot like how she probably feels. When her eyes clear and she sees me, she kinda smiles, kinda cries. "Thank you," she tries to say, but her voice is too shaky.

"Don't worry about it," I say, reloading. "How many more were there?"

"Th-there were uhm…" she has to think for a second. Flashbangs will mess you up. "There were six more."

 _Ten man job? For me?_ I'm almost flattered, but then I remember what kinda brains were in these ten. "Ma'am," I say, tipping my hat and heading up the fire-escape stairs on the right. I push open the door to the second floor, and it's a wreck. White sheets, busted doors, spilled drinks, bullet holes in the walls. A couple run past me, all out of their wits with fear.

I walk by door after door, listening for rummaging. I see a door banged wide open, and turn. The guy is looking through the damn cupboards. I can't help but laugh. "I'm a bit too big for that space, bud." I tag him before he can get his gun shouldered.

I lean into the hallway when his buddy peaks his head out three doors down to see where that shot came from. "Hey there," is all I say, planting one right between his eyes. It'll give him a nasty hangover when he wakes up, and I'm glad for it.

I ride the elevator to the third floor. Elevators are noisy in the quiet. All those dings. Sure enough, when it opens they shoot it up. I'm a bit smarter than that though, and I watch from the trapdoor above as three of 'em pour into the elevator. All three. _Wow._

Of course, I tear the first counterweight cable out, old fashioned, this place. The Box juts, and all the dummies look up through the open trap. I take a long drag of my cigar. Guess it must have lit up my face, cus they look pretty spooked. A couple rounds get off before I crush the other cable. The car falls, we four fall with it. Three stories and it smashes to the ground.

They stumble out into the lobby all over each other and I hop back down into the box. I walk right through the dust into the clear. The receptionist has a phone in her hand, but she's not saying anything, just staring. I give another tip of my hat and make my way back up the stairs.

Room 501 is what I'm after. Fifth floor, all the way to the left. I can't waste any time. Jessica might be gone already. I turn the corner and it's as bad as I fear. The asshole has a gun to her head, using her as a shield. Scum.

"Alright, McCree. Alright. We didn't expect you to be _this_ good, I admit that." I got nothing to say to him. I see the sun rising behind him, purpling the sky and burning the horizon. It makes a shadow of him. "Now, I'm getting out of here, scott-free. And this bitch is comin' with me. Got it?"

I say nothing still, but he pulls back the hammer on his gun. Pointless, but it gets the message across. "Yeah, I got it, slick." I walk around him to the left, puffing my cigar still. It's getting low. He circles round to the door, opposite me, and I keep as good an eye on him as I can. Jessica looks like she could kill me if she got loose. I would laugh if it were funny.

"Alright, easy… easy." He says, more to himself I think. He backs to the door, but it's already too late for him. I give a nod to Jessica, and the smart girl gets the idea. She shuts her eyes nice and tight.

I see the sun hit his face and it burns, just as the skull in my vision flashes red and I finally get a clean shot on his bald head. He panics, pointing his gun blindly in front of him. I roll to his left, kick the door closed, and plant one into the red skull maker in my retina. He collapses, and Jessica is free.

"You alright, darlin'?" She slaps me. I earned it.

"I read your letter, jackass. You think I'm that stupid?" I can't help but laugh.

"I just thought I'd lighten the blow. You know I-"

"Lighten the blow, Jesse? You really think I expected you to stay? Damn you are as dumb as you dress."

I actually take offense to that. "Hey now, the pancho ain't that bad."

She rolls her eyes. "The Belt Buckle is."

I got nothing to say to her. Maybe BAMF wasn't the best choice to put on a belt buckle. I start to search the unconscious guy on the floor. "Who was he?" She asks me, and I'm focused on finding out just that.

His ID is useless, three days from expiring, there's only a few dollars in his wallet, and he's got pictures of his wife and kids. _Desperate._ Wish I could say I feel bad. "Just some two-bit thinking he could score big. Must have been at the bar when you and I were-"

I hear the gun cock, I feel the barrel against my head, and I wince. "Dammit all," I say aloud.

"Shut up. Get up, McCree." Jessica says, her voice just a bit changed. Stern. I do, slowly, hands in the air. As reckless as I am, I like to keep my brain where it is. She motions to the front door, and I move. Should have seen this comin'. "Why?"

She scoffs. "Really? Its for the money, Jesse. Did you really think I was asking all those questions because I like the way your droll hangs?" She actually laughs. "Throw your gun over the side." I do. And when I look over, I see more red and blue lights outside, waiting for me.

"All that talk about 'Meant to be'?" I gaze over the edge a bit longer, then turn to her. "Just a bunch of bull?"

She hesitates a bit, and I catch a glimpse of doubt in her eyes. Rich and light brown. "Shut up, McCree."

"I mean, I have had my fair share of one-nighters. But you. You were different." I shake my head, "Somethin' else entirely."

"I said shut it, you womanizing shit." She jerks the gun ahead, emotional.

"You know I traveled the world, seen all kinds. Never thought the one I'd actually see the day where I might wanna stop." I let my eyes water up a bit. "Never thought I'd even consider settlin' down. Even a little bit. Then you just… tore that wall down." I let that little number liner on her, make her think. The gun is still pointed at me. "Guess not, though."

She hesitates, and I know she feels the same. A shake of the head, a couple of flickering, watery eyes, and she drops the gun to her side. "Get the hell out of here."

I give her a grin, the same one she said she liked so much. "You know you're pretty good. Catchin me like this," I say to her, but she doesn't budge. "But you gotta admit," I flick the cigar over the side as well and drop my hands to my sides, leaning back against the rail, five stories up. "I look pretty good in the hat."

It always feels like a longer drop than it turns out. When I hit the ground, I roll to keep momentum, picking the gun up as I pass over. The doors to the lobby are opening up just as I rise again, and I flashbang the lot of them, diving out the window on the left. I have a couple seconds to get out of sight, but it's enough. Sirens whir and blare all damn morning.

It's well into the afternoon when I finally make it out of town, and I look back down on it. The Hotel is clear as day from here. I give it one last look, and I know, just as Jessica probably did, that I'd never see her again. _Smart girl._


	5. Chapter 4

**FAREEHA**

 **GIZA PLATEAU, 2082**

"Defeat me, Fareeha." My mother's voice beckons me, my body near exhaustion, braced on a knee and a palm. Blood, a familiar taste, slithers its way past my lips. I pant and squint, bracing for another impact on instinct. It never comes, a surprise to me.

"I can't. You're… too large… to strong," I say through heavy breaths. Sweat drips past my nose and onto the padded floor, it dampens my Gi. My mother's is spotless.

Mother doesn't skip a beat. "Words that should not be in your vocabulary. Now defeat me."

I can't muster the words anymore, I only shake my head in disbelief, defeat. Weakness.

"Remember, Fareeha, I defeated Reinhardt in a spar," she retells me, close to the fiftieth time. I'd been counting. She walks over and lifts me by the arm and I stand, hunched over with my hands on my knees.

"Yes, 'Ami. But that was different," I wipe blood from my lips, it cools on my hand.

"No different. He is as large to me as I am to you, he is as strong to me as I am to you." She paces around me, her arms crossed. "Did I ever tell you how long it took me?"

I look up as she passes, shaking my head again. "Six hours," she tells me for the first time.

 _Six._ And here I was complaining about two.

"I exploited his weaknesses, few as they were. I used his size against him, wore him down bit by bit. In the end he yielded, and I had barely broken my form."

I grinned, stifling laughter. "I doubt he'd tell it the same way."

My mother, Ana, Captain of Overwatch, a stern, righteous, and wholly serious woman began to laugh with me, her daughter, Fareeha.

After a while she struggled to regain herself, fighting another grin. "Now," she began.

 _Exploit_ _ **my**_ _weaknesses._

…

The loud beep wakes me, I see the hull of the great plane lit dimly in red. My helmet, gold vizor and blue cowl, is barely affected by the colors. The rumble of the ship barely affects my focus. The dream, memory, fades away. The mission is all there is now.

"I have to say, Ma'am, it looks rather dicey down there."

I look at the corporal at the ramp, Tyler Yates. "I hate that word, Corporal."

His expression is hidden by his goggles and oxygen mask, "What, 'dicey'?"

"Ma'am," I slip on my helmet and stand, the boosted wings of this new suit fold in behind me. It's a little heavy, if truth be told, but nothing I cannot handle. It was supposed to increase mobility in combat, or so I was told. We would see.I had seen it before, it resembled the Sky god, Horus. Rather fitting.

The mission is unlike any I have been on. I volunteered to go alone. After what had happened the last time the Temple was breached I could not risk another loss on my behalf. Some organization, I suspect Talon, is attempting to infiltrate the temple of Anubis. They've been getting more and more aggressive after each of their failed attempts, but this is unprecedented. This is War.

Their target is unclear, but Helix suspects they are after an experimental weapon, maybe Anubis itself. The God program. But since the last incident, the number of human security personnel has tripled, and omnic presence in the facility has been all but eliminated. _Necessary._

Since the opposition have set up a stalwart perimeter around the front of the facility, frontal assault was impossible. Local police and some military have been actively trying to breach, to no avail. Whoever they were, they were well-equipped, and likely have apprehended the security personnel. All bases covered. _Except the air._

"Are you sure you want to jump alone?" Tyler was kind-hearted. Fearless, for what it was worth. I approach the ramp and give him an assured nod. No one else has to die for, or because of, me. "I can do this myself."

"What is that, if I may ask?" He points at my right eye, at my tribute to Ana. He may not get another opportunity. He doesn't say this.

"The eye of Horus. Udjet."

"What's it mean?" He's nervous.

I give him a friendly smile, hitting the ramp button. The light goes green as it whirs and opens, the wind whipping around the empty cabin. I have to yell for him to hear me. "When I get back, I'll tell you."

The clouds are below me, the sun ahead of me, the sky all around me. Horus. This is how he felt.

I lean forward and fall, the clouds rushing up to meet me. I spread my weight to slow my fall, control my movements. I can feel the air thicken, the chill whip past my face. It won't matter for long.

The clouds slip past me, and I barely notice. When I regain visibility, I can see the pyramid. Glistening in its chrome paneling, the bright sunrise making it a shimmering, easy target from this height. I fold my limbs back and dive. The battle is raging down below and I cannot waste a second. Over the comm, a voice sounds.

" _Aeriel presence, identify yourself or be fired upon."_ The captain of the show going on down there, most likely.

"This is Captain Fareeha Amari, callsign "Pharah", of HSI, coming in via HALO insertion. Cease fire upon insurgents immediately to reduce risk of FF, over."

Silence, but I see that the order is given. Bullets, rockets, grenades only going one way. The Military and Police force begins a retreat to remain out of range. I'm within eight-thousand feet and descending fast. I see the outer wall of the facility come into view. I aim for the center of the courtyard.

" _Roger, Pharah, you are clear for landing."_

I can hear the cheers of the insurgents. The fools think they've won. I make out ten infantry, two APCs on the outside and several airborne drones. And a big, bipedal mech. The wrecking ball. This may be tough.

I spread my weight again and let the jets of the wings stabilize my descent, fire two rockets at the APCs, one each, and before I get close enough, they go up in flame. The cheering turns to screams, I dive again, after one of the snipers on the ramparts. I fire off four more rockets at various points in the wall. Tackling the sniper, I throw him to the ground. When I make contact, I brace the impact. The wall crumbles at the points where I fired, the soldiers tumbling with the rubble. The other sniper fires at me, his bullet misses in his panic and the dirt kicks up near my feet. My concussion rocket sends him flying off the ramparts to the outer side of the wall.

I reload my rockets and fire another into one of the drones. It lurches into a second and they burst moments before I launch off the ground and fire another rocket at a third drone. The other four fire at me, but I let myself drop and take cover behind a building. Patience.

While I'm there, three other soldiers open fire at me. I launch another cuncussion missile at them and they all scatter through the air, hitting the building behind them with enough force to kick dust off.

The big one has spotted me by now. It approaches, heaving its weight on its relatively small legs. It opens fire, and I launch myself into the air, loading rocket after rocket into its legs. Soon enough they buckle and break.

Its still intact though, and capable. It turns and begins a volley of rockets at me. I meet it in kind, the barrage escaping my suit with such fury that the world lights up, and buildings crumble. The mech is no more, and the remaining drones have been caught in the crossfire.

I descend to the ground, admiring my work. The wall would need repairs, but most of the facility was still intact. Paperwork abound, no doubt. "Exposing weaknesses, right 'Ami?" I say to the air.

"I'm not your damn mother," the air calls back, from behind. Gruff and horrible, it's voice was. I turn, and black swirls rip my launcher from me, a shell of pellets rocking my body backwards. Pain rocks through me, and I shriek. The ground pulses underneath me, but I know it is my own sense of balance giving way. I turn to my assailant, helpless. But I will not beg.

I catch a glimpse of a cloak, a white mask. It swirls, whatever it is, like a cloud, shapeless and formless, until it settles. A man. He carries two shotguns, and aims them at me. Death. Such a fitting form to end me.

It tilts its head, and I can feel eyes watching me, studying my every move. I cannot let my pain show, even in this. "Just like her…" the shadow says, the sound hoarse and stoney. My vision begins to blur. I blink and lose more and more vision. Blood pools in my armor, but I feel cold.

In an instant, I feel a sharp pain in my side, and then it subsides, along with my other ailments. I feel stiff, but able. The creature turns to where the shot came from. The world rocks to life, and I can hear rifle fire. The wraith wards off its unseen attacker with its own weapons, but it vanishes as a trio of spinning rockets flies past, no, _through_ it.

I stand, too fast for my wound to keep up, and double over in pain. A hand grips me and pulls me up. Another man stands before me. Older, his face hidden by a strange mask with a red slit for a visor. He holds a rifle, I recognize it as one of Helix's own designs.

I stare for a long while. "Thank you," I finally say, finding the strength and courage to speak.

"Not a problem, but you really should have backup," he says, shouldering his rifle. "Regardless, nice work. Wouldn't have been able to get in without the uh…" he looks at the rubble behind him, "renovations."

"A necessary compromise," I tell him.

"Good soldier, just like her." He says.

"Her?" I ask, not thinking. He doesn't answer. I rethink the rifle. "The weapon you possess is Helix property, and I don't think you are security. Hand it over and we won't have conflict." I change my tone to fit my status, my authority here.

He huffs, "They can bill me." An old, tired, gruff voice with command. Familiar. With this, he turns around and walks towards one of the new entryways I had made in the wall.

"Return the stolen property or I will fire upon you!" I reach for my grounded launcher and aim it at him. He stops. Wise.

" _Now_ , please," Is all he says. I realize he is not alone all too late, turn, and see the second assailant on the ramparts. A black, featureless helm with a triangle of markings, a cloak, a rifle. Then darkness.

…

"No, Fareeha."

I stand my ground, not letting my mother's stubbornness ruin me. "You have trained me for so long, 'Ami. Let me fight beside you. You need more soldiers now. More than ever."

She stays as stubborn as she can, her features have wrinkled, but she is no less lovely. Now I tower over her, but I know she could still beat me.

"You have my answer," she confirms. My anger must be visible by now. I cannot let this stand. I want to be with her, to help her and Jack and Gabriel all. I want to stand beside those who came before me, and lead the ones who come after. I am older than Tracer or Winston, and probably the Climatologist, Mei. I am only five years younger than Doctor Ziegler, a senior member. But it is just a dream.

"What am I to do then? Stay here and wait for your return?"

She sighs, "Fareeha, you must stay. I do not want you in danger. You could hardly have better company here. Winston and Lena both are staying for this mission. Reinhardt will be here too." She smiles at me, trying to ward off my anger. She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you can finally ask his side of the story."

I shove her hand off, and it's clear that this hurts her. "I only want to help. And you refuse to let me."

Ana Amari does not weaken. She doesn't falter, despite her pain. "You want glory, child. If you cannot see my reasons for keeping you out of harm's way in such a pursuit, then perhaps I have more reason to keep you here than I believed."

Jack calls for everyone to go aboard. The mission awaits her. I do not say goodbye. I only turn and walk away, with a salute to her and Jack. Customary, though unnecessary.

I would later hear from Jack himself that five members of Overwatch died that mission. I would thank him for his honesty, his courage, and the sacrifice that was necessary to protect the innocent. I would salute him, the fallen, and the living members yet to give their lives.

But in private, I would weep. I would mourn. I would curse myself for all the wrong I had done her, my mother. 'Ami. They would approach me to say a few words at her funeral, and i would refuse. I have never been a good speaker. Reinhardt, Jack, and many others would say enough for me.

"This can't be easy for you." Capain Reyes is the only one who speaks to me at the procession, standing in front of the empty coffin. He is tired, it is clear. His operations required much attention, it was known, and much of the soul. He respected my mother.

"Thank you, Captain. But if it were easy, it would not mean as much."

The good Captain gives as much a smile as he can muster, nods, and pats my shoulder. "Just like her." He says.

I can feel my lip quiver, my eyes start to sting. He pulls me into an embrace as I begin to weep and sob. I realize now that I need this. Perhaps he is just now realising it, as well. It seems a long while before he pulls away again. He is still smiling, but his own face is wet with tears.

"Come on, now. We don't want Rein to hog all the punch."

…

When I awake, several people surround me. Military, police, civilian. They had captured the temple while I was unconscious, it would seem.

I rise, and hear an uproar from the surrounding crowd. They thought i was dead, it dawns on me.

I salute the commanders, and they salute me. "Great work, Captain Amari," says one officer.

"It was nothing. You needed Helix's assistance, and I volunteered. It is our duty to protect the pyramid, after all." My head hurts, and it reminds me of my rescuers. "Tell me, though. Did you see any strange people leaving the area? An old man and..." I don't have an apt description of the other one, "there were two."

The captain looks puzzled, and shakes his head. "No, Ma'am, cannot say I have, or it would have been reported. Lately there has been a bounty on a few vigilantes around here. Perhaps that is who you saw."

I think it over, give the man a smile and a nod, and thank him.

It will trouble me, though. It will trouble me for a long time to come.


End file.
